


In Blood and Ire (Redux)

by F_F_M_D



Series: Blood and Ire [1]
Category: Zootopia
Genre: Cruel Violence, Drug Use, F/M, Gore, Graphic Violence, Horror, Mystery, Slow Boil Progress, Violence, retelling AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22692967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F_F_M_D/pseuds/F_F_M_D
Summary: People offer their attention - though offer their attention to things of which affect them in the most immediate manner. Their attention shall be offered unto matters of which shall bring them benefit - and there shall be no regard as to whether or not such matters are something of which concerns them - or if the matters are something of which do not.Their attention shall be dropped upon the changing of the wind - should the matter bring them nothing or bring them some form of detriment and there shall be no regard as to whether or not the matter is the right thing to do. If there is nothing that shall affect them in a beneficial matter - or something that shall affect them in a detrimental manner, if attention is to be offered, then there shall be no attention offered at all.Though even still: should there be a matter of which shall affect them in either a beneficial manner - or a detrimental one; should the effect not be seen nor felt in the most immediate manner - then no attention shall be offered all the same. Therefore: it is an unsurprising thing to see - for people to all but forget about a new, horrific disease affecting Predators abroad - not when a killer is loose upon the streets all the same.
Series: Blood and Ire [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632349
Comments: 13
Kudos: 2





	1. The Calling of the Old World

**Author's Note:**

> Indeed - a redux of the original work, as I'd found myself harboring a great deal of dis-satisfaction regarding the original.
> 
> I am not of the belief all too greater a deal is in need of being stated upon the matter.
> 
> The music of choice that I would recommend listening to has been changed about - though even still is something of which can be found below:
> 
> https://youtu.be/OAr1w8ZnROk

"Yes, indeed . . . How the world of men would appear to all, to be nothing more than a fallen shell - of greed, and of lust, well hollowed out, and rotting now. The world of men, now fallen, and running upon the endless pursuit of vanity, and the illusions of strength . . ."

"The name of the fallen world . . ."

"The name of the fallen world, was once the name of Gaia - though all could suppose the name to be Gaia, even still."

"In the face of countless cities, all of them standing even still - and all the men, the women wandering all about within them, their number countless all the same; so great a number among the world men would assume the world to be right . . ."

"For the matter of peace - the illusion of it, upon the least of all things, would indeed bring most to an assumption, so quaint in overall nature . . ."

"Though all among them stand upon a world - built well, upon a hidden past, nigh upon lost to them all . . ."

"The world in which once, all upon it knew well, and in the fullest manner, that all among men had been master of nigh upon all around him - through the strength of the mind, and the form; the strength of the tool, all the same. The world in which once, the mere tool of a man, followed through beneath his own will, would bring upon all before him, the might of ceaseless thunder."

"The world in which once, nigh upon all seldom knew a limit to their own strength - for even the matter of time itself had been a matter more simple, for a man to grasp upon, and mold in accordance to his own will; for the strength of a man had been nigh upon unmatched."

"The world of a past so well buried and hidden away from the sight of all - though lost, too in the same manner; for the Old World had been brought toward ruin, from a war, nigh upon endless in length, and nigh upon endless in acting as though a harbinger of suffering. For the war had scarred the land itself - burning it all to unto the matter of a cinder, and rendering the land beneath it black and molten in overall form . . ."

"The land, too, as it had been burned in such a manner - had nigh upon all both known and built from all of those among the Old World, been burned away much the same, cast across, and unto the gripping of the annals of the rotting past . . ."

"The land had fallen, the Old World with it, and all the strength that men had once possessed. The world, indeed, had regressed - unto another age, one of both steel and stone."

"The past among them, one well and hidden from their sight - and a past well and nigh upon forgotten."

"The fallen world, the world now known to most among all men. The world in which the chaos of the fall from strength had allowed a world to fall even further. For though the strength of the Old World had been lost, and an older manner of strength had been reattained - the world is rotting, even still, from forces unseen."

"For the nations fall, one after the other, and the people among them shift and change in their form and face - and the little strength that all of them have is robbed from them, time after time - again and again, over and over."

"For the heart among them is made rotten - and those of men beneath the flag and banner, are made rotten all the same. They are rendered unto hollow shells, following the pursuit of greed, and the pursuit of lust all the same - following the call of vanity, and forgetting the path of the truest strength."

"Though even still, rotting may be, the fallen world of Gaia - but not all has been lost, as of yet."

"For the past may be well and buried, hidden away from all, and indeed - nigh upon forgotten . . ."

"Though even still - the strength seen among those of the Old World, linger none the less. The strength of the runic - a power sought from nigh upon all among the fallen world, the past behind them well and ignored."

"The strength sought from nigh upon each nation, standing even still - a strength attained, a strength renewed."

"Though in the face of strength reattained - the fallen world is shattered once more, and each nation stands in the face of another."

"However, the mere state of a nation, had not been all in possession of the strength offered from the Old World, indeed. For the fallen world has a shadow looming well upon it, cast anew from an unseen hand - and an older shadow cast about from the Old World, even still."

"The Lords among the Scorched Land, and all the runic strength within; the Legion of the Fallen. Their heart well within the City of the Burned. Protector of the Old World, and all the knowledge recorded - now lost and nigh upon forgotten."

"The scourge of the fallen world, and the usurper of the runic; the Infernum Remnants, the men of steel and runes. Collectors of the strength, belonging to the Old World."

"The fear of all the West, and the terror of the South, all the same. The strength of the North - and the pride of the East; Vinnoc, the Clockwork God - and his own Legion, the number among them uncounted, and nigh upon un-rivalled in strength."

"Vinnoc's Legion . . ."

"Then, of course - the Immortal King, of the Old World, and the master of light; the last among all within the City of the Runic - the Lord of Ruin . . ."

"His name lost to all, and forgotten in all of history . . ."

"Though in the face of it all - among the fallen world; there stands to the far West, the city well within the Utopian Basin . . ."

"The city well within the land, in which all those runic are banished, though even still, lies their greatest city - their pride born from the strength of the runes, among the Old World . . ."

"Yes, indeed . . . the name of the city, is . . . ZooTopia . . ."

"There within the city, within the deeper reaches upon the matter, lies one man among them all . . ."

"That man, a mere and feeble Fox, nigh upon afeared toward all - in possession of nothing about himself, be it a matter of use, nor value; skill, or talent . . ."

"There within, lies a man - a Fox, of rotten blood, and of a soul, bound well unto a curse . . ."

"There within, lies a Fox, of a mind tainted in the fullest manner, and undermined toward a weaker nature . . ."

"There, within the accursed city - born of hypocrisy, lies a man - a mere Fox, accursed and worthless, nigh upon; unfit, in truth . . . to be called . . . so much . . . as a man . . ."


	2. The First Awakening

His form laid out across upon the mattress of the bed - and his form well wrapped beneath all manner of sheets made from cotton and from a number of other materials assorted. No other soul to be found beside him - well wrapped beneath the sheets all the same as him - no one for him to find comfort within the arms of.

The sheets atop his form: shaded unto both a hue of Beige upon the top-most side - along the side of a hue of Cream across the under-most side - though each of the hues across the sheets well faded and worn about in a manner much the same.

The sheets atop him well ridden with both grime and other filth assorted all across the surface of them. One could suppose him harboring no interest in allowing another to come so close as to see the state of them - let alone rest beneath them along the side of him.

His form of Russet fur ridden across him - and of Cream fur ridden across him in a manner much the same about the region of the chest. His form that of a Fox - of the male variant. His form overall - slender in its' nature and taller more so than most others among his race all in all. His form appearing to sleep well enough beneath all of the sheets atop him - breathing about in a manner both calm and well collected - or upon the least of all things: so far as one could discern from beneath the moment.

Though even still - upon the passing of the moment and little else besides: his form rolling about from beneath the sheets atop him. His form rolling across and unto the right-most side of him - the flesh and the Russet fur across the region of his brow furrowing about and forming the expression one could suppose to be of pain - of a differing manner.

His form beginning to breathe about in a manner differing from the moment prior - the breathing of his form growing more intense and becoming a pattern of breathing similar more so to the pattern of panting - as opposed to breathing. His form chittering about from the region of his mouth - and from the teeth upon him.

His form rolling across once more - unto the left-most side of him as opposed to the right-most side. His head snapping about in all manner of directions assorted and all manner of grunts managing so much as to escape from between his maw.

The both of his hands reaching up and across his form from beneath the sheets in so sudden a manner - grabbing himself about the region of his head and across the scalp upon him - each one of the claws across each one of his fingers piercing the flesh well beneath the Russet fur in the slightest manner.

His form rolling across and unto the rear-most side of him - spreading his spine across the mattress once more. Still breathing about in a manner more so to a pattern of panting and still gripping himself about the region of the scalp beneath each one his claws - his form snapping up from the out and across the mattress and unto an upright position.

The Fox still gripping at himself across the region of the scalp upon him - screaming across the room beneath the fullest strength of his lungs; "RAAARRRRGGHHH! STOP! STOOOOOP IIIIT!"; The Fox shunting the both of his eyes open.

His form scanning across the room in most rapid a manner - scanning across the left-most side of him and then scanning across unto the right-most side of him instead. The both of his hands releasing the gripping across his scalp - and the both of his hands falling limp unto the mattress at the both of his sides.

His form breathing about in a manner similar to the pattern of panting even still - though his manner of breathing settling down unto a pattern more collected across the moments. Scratching about himself once more - across the region of his head and rubbing about himself across the region all the same. One could see it clear enough: the Fox afeared from the matter of sleeping - from a chittering about his mouth and from across his teeth among his manner of breathing even still.

From well beneath the sheets across him - pulling the both of his knees across the mattress and pressing the both of them across the region of his chest. Then amid the moment after - curling his head across and pressing unto the both of them.

One could suppose him - the Fox of the male form - to be the manner of Fox; the manner of man whom of which would suffer the most of his mornings screaming the both of his lungs asunder - as opposed the manner of man whom'd suffer the most of his mornings in a manner far more traditional. For one could see the act - of him pressing his head across the both of his knees - telling so much about him.

Pulling his head from across the both of his knees - and canting his head unto the direction of the ceiling above him - a coat of Frosted White painted across it.

The Fox appearing on all accounts - far more collected in mind. For the pattern of breathing about him no longer more so a pattern of panting - and his manner of breathing beset no longer from a chittering from across the region of his mouth and from across his teeth.

"Just . . ."; His form breathing about in a collected manner - though even still: in a manner far heavier between each section of his sentence; "It's . . . it's not real . . ."

The Fox of the male form: appearing distressed in some manner even still - gripping at himself once more across the region of his scalp beneath the both of his hands and the region of his mouth trembling about in the slightest manner; "It's . . . it's . . . it's . . . in . . . the past now . . ."; Sniffling about for a moment.

The Fox appearing to effort himself in collecting the nerves across him: the Fox drawing a deal of breath far greater in scale between his maw - and expelling all of the breath drawn about amid the moment after - beneath the motion of a sigh.

The Fox rubbing himself about the region of his head amid the moment after - and the breathing about his form becoming far heavier in its' manner - and the teeth across the region of his mouth gritting up and against one another.

The both of the hands upon the Fox gripping about him across the region of his head - and the both of them curling across unto the form of fists - running through the Russet fur upon him and scraping all across the flesh beneath amid the motion.

"SHUT UP! LEAVE ME ALONE! IT'S DONE! I . . . CAN'T - IT . . . CAN'T! BE! UN! DONE! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"; The Fox of the male form - across the spanning of a moment, all efforts in collecting both his mind and collecting the nerves across him seeming for naught.

One could see him well enough - the Fox upon the mattress and well beneath the sheets across him: a man rendered unto torment - a man whom of which fought off from all angles across each moment - a man, the enemies of whom appeared to number across the most if not all of the thoughts among him - a man whom could consider the entire mind of him to be among them all much the same.

"Nick?! You okay in there?!"; The sound of a hand knocking across the surface of a door - made from wood coming from across the room - coming from the side of the room opposite from him; "Nick?!"

The sound of the voice coming from across the room - and coming from upon the other side of the door: softer in tone and well higher in pitch. One could suppose the voice to be ridden in concern - for the voice trembling about in the slightest manner amid each word spoken.

The Fox of the male form: the both of his ears fluttering about for a moment - and then steering themselves unto the direction of the door opposite from him. The both of his eyes - the Irides upon them of a Mossen Green - snapping across unto both the left and right-most sides of him for a moment.

One could see the effort within him - the haste about his form and all motions therein: his form turning about from across the mattress - pulling from beneath the sheets across him - and unto a sitting position upon the outer-most edge across it. His form pressing up from across the outer-most edge of mattress and unto his feet upon the wooden floor beneath him in a manner most hurried - and scanning across the room around him in a manner much the same.

"Uh . . . Yeah! I - I'm fine . . . I'll uh . . .; The voice about the Fox falling unto a volume far more silent - a mutter more so than a manner of speech more general; "Shit"; The voice about the Fox returning unto a form far more audible in nature; ". . . Just a moment, Rosetta - I'll be out there in a moment! Okay?"

His form unclothed in a partial manner - shirtless and allowing all of the tufts of both the Cream and the Russet fur upon him to be seen - as opposed to his form being unclothed across regions far more delicate.

His form of a shirtless state - allowing all of the Cream and the Russet fur upon him to be seen. Though all the same: allowing the form of him - thinned out in some manner and the rib-cage across him pronounced from beneath both the flesh and from beneath the fur in some manner to be seen all the same.

His form scanning across the room around him: the walls about the room - all painted across unto a hue of Frosted White - and all sundered and torn about. Harboring all manner of gashes and tears across their form - along the side of other mannerisms of damage far more general in their overall nature.

The room around him: ridden in filth and ridden in garbage bags both abundant and strung about. The room around him: ridden in clothes of which in a clear enough manner had been tossed about - cast across the room and left to sit upon the place at which all of them fell.

His form scanning across the room around him - scanning across all manner of furniture about the room. The furniture more so than not - ridden in dust, dense in their layers, and ridden in stains of natures assorted.

The Fox of the male form: setting his sights across the room - and unto a table made from wood upon the centre-most region of the room. The table's form of a circular nature - and ridden in dust all the same as most other items across the room.

Setting his sights upon the table: for upon the table - a shirt across it. His form stepping across the room - in a hurried manner even still. His form approaching the table - and reaching across unto the shirt upon it - a shirt made from cotton and shaded unto a hue of Black.

Grabbing the shirt upon the table and in the swiftest manner: turning the shirt about beneath his gripping and then pulling it up and across his form - donning the shirt in the most rapid manner. The matter clear enough: of this Fox - Nick being his name - harboring the belief for this Rosetta upon the other side of the door being a person of the utmost import.

The raised flesh and Russet fur across his brow and the smile across his face - of the lighter form - telling so much of the matter.

His form no longer unclothed in part - across the region of the chest. Stepping around the circular form of the table - made from wood. Stepping around and approaching the door beneath the manner of a half-jog. His hand in a manner ridden in both haste and ridden in enthusiasm - reaching across unto the door before cutting himself off from action upon the moment forth from there.

His form blinking about in a rapid manner - and turning his head about unto and across his shoulder upon the left-most side of him. One could suppose him realising upon the current moment that to open the door in so rapid a manner - as to open the door unto a wider angle and greet the person upon the opposite side of the door would allow this Rosetta to see the state of which he himself had been living beneath.

Though one could consider it possible for him - the Fox of the male form - to have considered so much as her harboring some clue none the less - of as to the manner in which he lived - and one implication among them all being an implication audible in form and all too recent.

The Fox stepping across unto the left-most side of him - standing upon the side of the door and standing upon a small distance from the frame - seeming as to ensure his form obscured the rest of the room behind him.

Twisting the handle upon the door about - and pulling the door open the slightest manner. Ensuring himself to obscure the room behind him well enough using his form and upon the opposite side of the door: another Fox - of the female form.

The fur ridden across her form: of a shade of Candy Apple - and her form much more slender than his own, and her stature far shorter all the same. Her form donning a jacket of Faux Suede - shaded unto a hue of Brown.

The flesh and the fur across her brow raised about, and the both of her eyes - the Irides upon them of a stronger Gold - dilated in some manner. Her face overall ridden about in an expression of concern.

"Well - well - well. The assistant manager of the building comes to see me at this h-hour . . ."; The flesh and the Russet fur across his brow raising about - in a manner differing from her. The both of his lips across his mouth frowning about in a slight manner too - and the both of his ears upon him falling down in a slight manner.

His face overall - harboring some expression fear across it; "Is . . . there - some reason at all, Rosetta?"

"Yes, Nick . . . there . . . there is."; Her hand and arm upon the right-most side of her reaching across unto the side opposite - and rubbing herself about the region of the shoulder; "I - . . . There's been . . . umm . . ."; Her head turning unto the right-most side of her - her head turning opposite unto him, and the both of her ears falling down from atop the region of her head.

"Nick . . ."; Her head turning across unto him once more - the expression of concern ridden across her face stronger in some manner; "There's been some complaints about the noise from this room . . . for a . . . a good and long time . . . and . . . well - I've heard it for myself, now . . ."

"Are you okay, Nick? . . . You . . . You sound . . . You sound as if . . . there's something serious happening . . ."

The breathing about his from growing in the manner of strength, and the both of his eyes snapping about in a rapid manner - unto both the left and right-most sides of him. One after the other.

"I . . . Yeah - that . . . it's . . . it's just . . . a - p-personal . . . matter, I suppose." - His head turning across unto the left-most side of him. Opposite in direction from the Fox in front of his form - and across his left-most shoulder and unto the room behind him. The flesh and the Russet fur across the region of his brow raising about once more. His face ridden beneath and expression one could suppose to be of shame - or at least of shame more so than not.

"Nick . . . I - I have to do my job . . ."; Her head canting unto the floor beneath her and beneath him too; "So I'll need . . ."

One could see it well enough: the Fox of the female form harboring some manner of care for him. For herself claiming in need of attending to her job - and amid the same moment: harboring an expression of sheer concern of the fullest form and too: an expression of shame across her face is telling so much of the matter.

"I'll need to take a look into the matter, Nick. Is there . . . a reason for you to be screaming in . . . that kind of way?"

His head turning across and unto her once more. His face growing unto an expression more collected - seeming another effort of control across himself; "I . . . There is a reason. I suppose . . ."

"And what would that be?"; Her head canting about unto and angle - upon the right-most side of her amid an expression one could see being of a nature more curious spreading across her face - the flesh and fur across the region of her brow furrowing about in the slightest manner as to form it.

Pulling in a great deal of breath between his maw - expelling all of the breath within him beneath a motion of a sigh. His head canting unto the direction of the floor beneath him - seeming as an expression of shame and one could suppose it to be of regret all the same; "Night - . . . I suffer from . . . Night-Mares . . . or terrors I suppose. Terrors . . . That's . . . why I'm screaming a lot . . . I . . . scream myself awake . . . from time to time . . ."

The expression upon the face of the Fox - of the female form - turning across and unto an expression far more empathetic in nature. The flesh and the fur across the region of the brow raising about once more - along the side of her ears returning unto the top-most side of her head; "Awww nooo. You poor thing, Nick . . . That must be horrible . . . Screaming awake from fear - I . . ."

"I'll handle the complaints Nick, so you don't need to worry about them, okay?"; Her expression turning about once more - from the expression prior and unto a simple smile across her face, softer in the manner of both form and in strength.

Nick pulling his head up from unto the direction of the floor beneath him - and turning his head unto the direction of her as opposed to the prior. His expression still ridden is some manner of shame - though a manner of shame far weaker in form than before. His face pulling a weaker smile across it - seeming an effort of response; "I . . . Thank - Thank you, Rosetta. Really - thank you. I - uhh . . . I - I appreciate it. Okay . . ."

"That's all right, Nick. Oh! And by the way: there might be a soon enough shift in management! Just letting you know, but nothing's final Nick!"

"Thanks for letting me know. I'll keep an eye out and we'll see what happens then, or I guess at least."

The Fox across from him of the female form: raising her foot upon the right-most side of her - and pressing the fore-most of her toes upon and across the floor beneath her - her toes, fore-most and otherwise all hidden beneath a shoe.

Scraping her foot and her toe across the carpet in an unhurried manner - and canting her head unto the floor beneath her once more, setting her sight upon her own foot - and following it across the surface of the floor beneath her. One could see it well enough: the act of scraping her foot across the carpet beneath her - an effort amid her mind focusing about - and all as to create some other matter for the both of them to discuss.

His head canting unto her foot for a moment - before pulling up once more and setting unto her face once more all the same. His hand upon the left-most side of him curling unto the form of a fist - and the lips across his mouth pursing up and against one another.

One could suppose him noticing her and one could suppose it possible for him to notice - to be well aware of as to her intention in her effort so subtle in nature.

"Well - uh . . . despite this . . . whole mess of a morning . . . I've uh . . . still gotta . . . go and get dressed for a job I've been called in for . . . so I guess I should . . . go and get dressed for it . . . uh . . . yeah . . ."

"Oh! I - I'm sorry, Nick. I - I didn't know about that. I . . . I thought you didn't work on the weekends . . ."

"I don't . . . though the ol' man pulled off a special request for me. So I suppose I shouldn't disappoint him."

"Oh - well, all right. I - I guess I'll see you later then . . ."

"Yeah . . . see you later, Rosetta, or probably at least."

Pushing the door unto her direction in a manner more gentle in nature - shutting the room behind him off from her view - and from the view of all, setting himself aside.  
Turning his form about in place - unto the direction opposite the door and unto room around him once more.

His hand upon the right-most side of him gripping across his maw - covering his mouth amid the motion. One could see him pondering up some matter - from the both of his eyes snapping across unto both sides of him once more - along the side of his head shaking about in the slightest manner; "That poor woman - if only she knew."

"Anyway . . ."; His hand releasing from the gripping across his maw - and falling limp unto the right-most side of him.

His form scanning about his room once more - in a manner far more rapid than the prior. Scanning across the room and scanning across unto the left-most side of him - across the room and unto a fridge opposite from him.

The Fox rolling the both of his shoulders about for a moment - and then stepping forth and unto the direction of the fridge. His form approaching the fridge - and the foot upon the right-most side of him stepping unto a vest out and across the floor.

The vest beneath his foot right-most: of a brighter hue of green - and fluorescent in the manner of its' nature. His form dropping unto the floor beneath him - unto and across the floor upon his knee from the left-most side of him.

Grabbing the vest about and pulling it from beneath his foot - donning the vest amid the moment after and beneath the motion of putting his arms through the circular cut-outs upon the both of the sides about the region of the chest.

One could suppose him the manner of Fox - the manner of man, whom of which harbored within him: not so much as the smallest form of regard nor the smallest form of care for all of his possessions. For the act of him grabbing the vest from across the floor and donning it amid the moment after - disallowing himself from so much as brushing his hand across the form of it and allowing all of the furniture across the room around him to become so ridden in both dust and grim telling so much of the matter.

From across the floor beneath him - upon his left-most knee: his form pressing up once more and unto the both of his feet. His form now standing upon the floor beneath him and turning about in place, unto the right-most side of him - and facing across unto the fridge.

His hand and arm upon the right-most side of him reaching across and pulling open the door upon the fridge. His hand and arm reaching across from the door upon the fridge once more amid the moment after and reaching unto the interior region - gripping about a bottle of water made from plastic.

Pulling the bottle across and unto him from upon the interior of the fridge. Pulling up unto himself and pressing across the surface of the door upon the fridge beneath his leg upon the right-most side of him - shutting the door beneath the motion.

The hand upon the left-most side of him gripping the bottle across the region of the cap and pulling upon it. Beneath the strength of him - the bottle trembling about in a manner so rapid for a moment before snapping off from the top-most side of the bottle. The force of pulling the cap free from it spitting water across and unto him about the region of the face.

The Fox pressing the upper-most region of the bottle across his mouth and pulling his head back - sipping from the content therein. Pulling the bottle of water from across his mouth and allowing himself to sigh for a moment - seeming to be a sigh from some manner of refreshment.

Stepping forth from the place upon which his form stood - further across and unto the deeper reaches of the room around him. Stepping forth across the length of a bench upon the left-most side of the fridge - across the length of the counter-side and across the length of the sink before stopping amid the centre-most region.

His form turning about in place once more - unto the right-most side of him and unto the sink across from him, sitting beneath a pane glass window well above the form of it. His form leaning across and unto the outer-most edge of the sink - and himself staring across unto the world outside of the window.

Himself staring across unto all the buildings upon the street across from him. The form of each building differing from the prior and differing from the building further on and across the street - both in the manner of scale and in the manner of overall structure.

Turning his head across and over the shoulder upon the right-most side of him - staring across unto the door upon the opposite side of the room once more. His head canting about in the slightest of manners - up and unto the region above the form of the door and unto a clock mounted upon the wall.

Pulling in a deal of breath between his maw - greater in the manner of scale - before expelling it all beneath the motion of a sigh, deeper in both tone and in form overall.

Turning his head back and across the shoulder upon the right-most side of him once more - and unto the window opposite from him once more all the same. Pressing the arm upon the left-most side of him across the steel surface of the sink - and tapping all of the fingers upon his hand left-most across the surface in a repeating manner - again and again.

"There's still some time . . . before I need to head out I mean . . ."; The Fox seeming to ponder upon something - amid him staring across unto the street and amid him tapping all of his fingers upon his left-most hand across the surface in the same moment; "I . . . suppose I could . . . go and chat with Rosetta . . . Hmmmm . . ."

Turning his head about once more - across and over the shoulder upon the right-most side of him. Staring across and unto the direction of the door once more all the same.

Pulling in another deal of breath between his maw - and expelling all breath within him amid the moment after beneath the motion of a sigh; "I dunno. I might."


	3. First Introductions

To suffer, the Fox would seem to know the matter well – the Fox seeming now rendered unto torment once more.

Once before, in a short time prior, had the Fox fallen unto torment – trapped within the confine of his mind. His form trapped within his room. Though twice now, had the Fox fallen unto torment – trapped now, more so upon the matter of the heart, as opposed to the mind, and the mind alone. How indeed, too, had the form of the Fox been telling of the matter in full – the tale of suffering – though so much as word to fall from him, from tongue, nor mind all the same. No, for his form telling upon it, from the Fox sitting about upon the floor, and in a manner most idle, and pressing himself up and across the wall; unto a furrowed brow upon him, and unto a mouth curled well across him, too. His mouth, trembling all about . . .

The expression upon him, all in all, seeming one of pain . . .

Though even still, how, indeed – the pride seen upon a man would be the same manner of pride, seen upon the Fox. How, too, such a manner of pride would see him hidden from the sight of nigh upon all – see him retreating toward a burrow – in the face of further torment. Hidden from the sight of all, well within the confine of a chill-ridden room, made from the matter of stone, and from steel all the same.

His recourse, indeed seeming born from pride, a manner of recourse, allowing the Fox, all in trade, some manner of solitude. The Fox running his hands, and each finger, each claw upon them, well and across his head, passing through each tuffet of russet fur before them. Facing off against a further bout of torment, fallen unto him, himself unassailed within his own burrow, from the attention of another, be them one or numerous, more.

The Fox breathing, now, in a manner much more erratic. His chest puffing, and falling – inflating, and deflating, over and over, again and again, innumerable times in a mere moment. His chest would puff, and fall – and the Fox's eyes would both dash all about, much the same, from across one side, unto the other, over and over, again and again, all in the pattern of a most current bout upon his heart.

The Fox falling into a state of panic, seeming to fail in holding strong against his inner self. His breathing so erratic, seeming more so panting, born of fear and stress, as opposed to breathing, in and of itself.

"Fuck . . . I . . . No – I'm . . ."; the Fox muttering about, between a bout of panting, a voice shuddering, and feeble.

The Fox pulling in a much deeper manner of breath – clamping himself shut, his mouth, and his maw, too. Pulling his hands down from across his head, from between the fur upon his scalp, pulling them down, further, and further, onward toward his chest. The Fox wrapping them both, upon one another – one curled unto a fist, the other wrapped upon it, forming a ball, of fur, and too, of muscle all the same.

"Calm . . . Control . . . Control yourself . . . You're calm . . . You're calm . . ."; Gripping his hands together, in a manner most tight, the muscle shuddering from the strength – the Fox muttering to himself. His voice shuddering, much the same as either of his hands . . .

"Calm . . . I'm calm . . . In control . . . I'm good, I'm good . . ."; the Fox relenting, and his gripping upon himself, in both form and heart, seeming to fall asunder. His arms falling from their station – and collapsing to the floor, where he sat.

"You're all right, Nick . . . You're all right . . ."; The Fox letting a sigh, spanning one moment, and then one moment more. His face putting on an expression, one no longer the same. Seeming calmer – telling from a lacking upon a furrowed brow, nor a curled mouth across him.

His torment, his gauntlet fought off, his second falling seeming now passed.

"Fuck . . . time to get a move on . . ."; The Fox pressing his hands across his legs, and pressing himself up from across the floor.

"Hrrruughhh. Fuck . . . Floor . . ."; Gripping his spine, his arms wrapped around. The Fox twisting himself about, and stepping forward. His march beginning, now.

Stumbling forth, and then meeting a door before him. Though a door much larger, and made from steel; a print painted upon it. The Fox pressing himself up and across the door, his arm leaning upon the door, and his form behind him.

"USE IN CASE OF FIRE! EMERGENCY ONLY!"; The Fox rearing his head to stare upon the print.

"Tch . . ."

The Fox slamming his arm laid out across the door, slamming it upon the bar across the door's mid, and then the Fox shoving it forward – a single hand from him to force the door so far, swinging it out, wide and open, and in a manner a tad more fierce.

His entrance, and his exit all the same; out from the confine of a stone and steel laid stairwell, out and unto a carpet ridden hall. The Fox stepping out, and in, though stepping in a manner just a tad more sluggish, too. Out unto the hall, turning his head, and his sight all the same, across from his left to his right – searching about the hall, seeming, for a person, sole or numerous, to have seen him in that place. His slamming, and shunting, his entrance, and exit bringing noise enough to attract the attention of another, indeed.

"Hmmff . . ."; Marching down the hall, the Fox dropping his head down unto the carpet beneath him, and bringing his sight upon it all the same.

The Fox stepping out from his burrow, and out from hidden solitude – to then find it once more, and reattain it soon after. The Fox well and all alone – no other soul to wander the hall alongside him. One man alone, wandering down a beige painted hall – nothing setting his own breath aside to remain beside him, a companion.

Though for a moment, the sound of his breath to be all around him and for no spanning of time further still. For his ears beginning to flutter about – to turn about and search for something. There had been a murmur, then a mutter, seeming. The Fox marching onward, forth even still, down the hall. Though there had been something else, too. Some manner of muttering, garnering strength, further and further down the hall, further and further along his wandering . . .

Chattering . . .

Chattering from further down the hall before him – though just a shorter distance more. His ears fluttering about, even still – turning to follow the matter. Turning to hone the noise – further, upon his left-most side. The Fox turning his head, indeed, to follow the noise in a manner much the same. Further upon the path, further across the hall – a single door, wooden, and possessing a bold manner of print across it; "STAFF!"

"Hmm . . . ? Is that . . . ? . . . Rosetta?"; the Fox seeming curious – from a tilted head, and from a furrowed brow upon him.

Turning his head across from the door, and seeming to bite down upon himself, upon his mouth. Staring across from the door, and further down the hall for a time. Though, of course, turning toward it once more, and approaching, reaching out toward the door, to open it forth, and greet her.

Though he stopped. For a moment – though stopped even still. His hand ceasing to move further. His hand trapped in a state of suspension. Hesitating, seeming, in the face of greeting her. "Who else . . . is . . .?"

"Huuarrgh . . ."; The Fox reaching out and grabbing the door, shoving it open, and seeing himself to the inner region of the opposite room.

Therein, stood the Fox, of the female manner of form. Sitting well behind a wooden table, further in room – upon the other end, well opposite him. Though therein, stood another – a Wolf, of the male manner. Sitting upon a table, as opposed to behind one, just a smaller distance across from her.

The both of them staring across from one another – over and toward the open door, and the Fox looming upon the frame.

"Oh! Hello, Ni-"

"Well, now! Could've sworn I uh, read, 'staff' on the other end of that door, there. You know – right, right there!"; the Wolf pointing across the door, and the printing upon it; "But who knows! Maybe I'm just a fucking idiot!"; Swatting his hand away, then, in a more dismissive manner.

"Terrence!"; Rosetta seeming to jab at him in name, an expression, more so a scowl upon her face.

"Hey! Just a joke! Right? No need to get pissy about it."; The Wolf sliding off from across the table, and hopping down upon the floor.

"Before you, uh, go ahead and ask, I am . . ."; The Wolf spinning himself about in place, though once, and proceeding to lower himself forth – curling out an arm from across his chest, out, further and further, out straight in a more refined manner of bow.

"Terrence, Edgar, Granton! Here to assist, sir!"

"You are one of the residents of this fine building, then?"; The Wolf rising from a lower manner of stance, and proceed to standing tall, further more. His arms wrapping about behind him.

Smiling, the Wolf stared on, across at the Fox, opposite him. He stood, indeed, in a manner most tall. Showing off his form. Him, seeming a man well built, and seeming a heavier manner of man, overall. Donning a jacket, seeming made from the matter of a brown leather, and donning a coat of fur, brown much the same upon his upper-most side. Though appearing, too, in possession of a fur coat, all white upon his underside.

Though from his throat, and further below, his fur hidden from the sight of another.

His lower-most half donning a pair of cargo-pants, along the side of a far heavier manner of boots.

"I . . . I am. Name's Nick, thanks . . ."

"Though who are you?"; The Fox stepping forth, though stepping but once, further into the room from the door.

"Nick? Hmm . . . I see, I'll remember that. Nick . . .?"; The Wolf folding his arms across his chest.

"Hmm?"

"Oh . . . Nick Wilde."; The Fox shrugging his shoulders about, seeming dismissive, more so of himself.

"I see. Well, I am the new, or at least, soon to be new manager of this fine building."

". . . Well, I suppose owner, not manager. Close enough, though, I suppose."; The Wolf smiling toward Nick once more.

"Right . . . Though, what happened to the old owner, umm . . . what's her name?"

"Hmm? Oh, that would be my sister. We're . . . at odd with one another. So, I imagine there's been a number of issues around this place . . . staff among them."

"Wh – wait, what, hang on, what do you mean, 'staff'?"; The Fox turning his head about, seeming to tilt in, in some manner of confusion, or some manner of concern.

"Well, this place has next to nothing, as you might have ended up noticing. Poor little Rosetta over here, has been hanging in there and attempting to do it all, just on her own, without a single shred of help."; The Wolf turning over to Rosetta, behind him and extending out the both of his arms, as handing her the spotlight – though for a small moment.

"I – wait, really?"

"Hmm! Indeed, she has been! Quite a good worker, isn't she?"; The Wolf smiling once again – a third time toward the Fox, toward Nick.

"Is that true, Rosetta?"

"Well, I -"

"HOO! Sorry! Don't mean to steal the spotlight from you, Rosetta – but! Let us not get off track! Back to it!"; The Wolf spinning around in place once more, and spinning though but once, before throwing a hand in the air, his finger pointing toward the ceiling of the room.

The Fox, Rosetta, seeming to scowl once more behind the Wolf.

"There's a number of other things wrong in this fine place, and all of the mis-management so far, has more or less . . . been on purpose, intentional."

"For me and my sister – well, we hate each other . . . I'll admit. I fucking hate her, and she hates me. I've got my own ideas, and she doesn't like 'em."

". . . To the point where she's driving this place – our father's place – into the ground, just to spite me."

"But! Hey!"; The Wolf snapping his fingers about and pointing over at Nick, pointing out toward him, finger made guns.

"I'm pretty good at convincing people! . . . That also applies to judges when we're contesting wills . . . in a court of law . . ."

"Fucking pathetic . . . Tch . . ." The Wolf scoffing in the face of the matter.

"So yeah. I win . . ."

"I'm just that fucking good, and I am going to, now, from this point forth, get this place up and running, so on the least of all things, little Rosetta is shouldering it all, and trying to keep this place floating on her own!"

The Wolf snapping his head upward, for a moment, and turning about the room.

"Hmm . . .?"

The Wolf sniffing about the room, pulling in all the air he could, one effort after another. The Wolf sniffing about, and turning himself toward the Fox, Rosetta, sitting behind him.

"Hmm . . .?"; The Wolf sniffing the air once more. Though proceeding, then, to shake his head about.

"Hmmff . . ."

"What's the problem, Terrence?"; Rosetta tilted her head, seeming curious.

"Hmm . . . Nothing, I think . . ."

"Well, anyway . . ."

The Wolf began marching forth, further across the room, and toward the door, nearing Nick. The Fox stepping across, toward one side, allowing the Wolf to pass him.

"Thanks . . ."

The Wolf stopping short of the door, though. Seeming to sniff the air around him once again. Puffing about once more, before turning himself toward the Fox, Nick, for a short moment.

"Hmm . . .?"

"Tch . . . Hmmff . . ."; The Wolf stepping forth once more, a marching onward and out the door, well out and into the hall. Though turning himself around once more, toward the Fox again, Rosetta.

"By the way! You know more bodies have turned up? Even Odeon Gray is pissed, stated to the police he's going to be the one to kill the bastard."

". . . Told the police to "fuck off, he's mine, cunt.""

". . . Must be nice, being such a danger and so strong that the cops won't fucking do shit, even when you say that to their face . . ."

"Anyway, see you around, Rosetta . . . Nick . . ."

The Wolf stepping forward, once again, and reaching out the door, pulling toward him and shutting it closed.

"He's really the new owner?"

"Soon to be . . ."

"Hmm. He's a bit of an ass, isn't he?"; The Fox, Nick, rubbing his chin during his statement, his claim unto Terrence.

"Hoo . . . I dunno, he's a little bit rude . . . but I don't think he's a bad man, at all . . ."

"We'll see, I guess, Rosetta."

". . ."

"By the way, is that true?"; The Fox, Nick, once more – tilting his head about, seeming curious, from a furrowed brow upon him.

"Me? Umm . . . trying to do everything on my own? I . . . I guess it is . . ."

"Being modest again?"

". . . Maybe . . ."

"Well . . . what brought you here, Nick?"; The Fox, Rosetta, tapping her hand across the table she had been sitting behind.

"Hmm? Oh . . . I . . . I, uh . . . Just wanted to follow up on the . . . shift in management. Though . . . I uh . . . I guess I got everything I need to know, really . . ."

"So . . . I . . ."

"Hmm . . ."

The Fox, Nick, turning his head, toward the door, his form following him in full, seeming on instinct, born from some manner of discomfort.

"I'm just . . . gonna go, and meet . . . Hmm . . . I'm just gonna take off, okay?"

"Oh . . . okay, then, Nick . . . Bye, I guess . . ."

"I guess . . ."

The Fox approaching the wooden door, and shoving it once more, in a manner much the same as the door upon his burrow. Once more, the Fox stepping out, creating a manner of entrance, and creating a manner of exit for himself. Passing the door, the smallest manner of back-swing from his leg scraping across the door, and slamming it closed.

The door shut, and the Fox therein of a sight now denied toward him. The Fox pressing his form up and across the door, leaning his back upon it.

"Well, I guess that's it, really . . . back out into the world once more . . ."


End file.
